in which witness is borne: birds, politics, fiction and critical art theory

failing better

Sunday, August 28, 2005
and did i go to that bird walk on Saturday, ladies and gents? no, the drumroll peters out to a stutter, i did not. Did i drink instead and hang out with friends till late evening on friday? yes i gloriously did. it felt nice.
another thing i'm super embarrassed about: several weeks ago, at a bar, I made a point. Emphatically. So emphatically did i make this point (and you can be sure that said point is long, long since forgotten, probably even since the moment i uttered it) that I slammed the edge of my left hand perpendicularly against the flat of my right palm. Bam. And felt something...go.
A moment later, eyes watering with pain, I was holding my left hand under the table, waiting for the pain to subside and hoping no one had noticed. No one had. This was several weeks ago. The hand hasn't healed. I'm fairly certain I did something at bone-level, like some sort of hairline fracture or pinched nerve or some such. When I turn my hand just so, or try to lift anything heavy, I feel as if my hand is snapping in two. I feel like such an ASS. It's as if my protector spirits are smacking me awake from my delusion that being right is the most important thing. NO, YOU MORON, they are saying, COMPASSION IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING. ARE YOU NEW TO THE WORLD OF HUMAN INTERACTION? FIGURE IT OUT, YOU BATSHIT FREAKO. HERE, WHY DON'T YOU TAKE HOME A HAIRLINE FRACTURE OF YOUR METACARPAL AS A REMINDER THAT WE HAD THIS LITTLE CONVERSATION?
ah well. maybe i'm being pessimistic. maybe it's only a sprain. but lucky for me (and for you as well, dear reader), i'm enough of a hypochondriac that
we will soon get to find out.
which reminds me: i saw a BAT tonight at Humboldt Park. Yay!
8:28 PM :: ::
Post a Comment
<< Home

mar-mar :: permalink